The Shades of Grey
by shadowphoenix55
Summary: What do you want? The hat asked, breaking the silence. And that was precisely the moment when it all changed. When Hermione Granger decided to forgo black and white and settle on shades of grey. Slytherin!Hermione.
1. The Shades Of Grey

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, not me. All characters and plot that are in her books are hers._

AN: This is a Hermione is in Slytherin story. Please read and review!

**CHAPTER ONE**

**THE SHADES OF GREY**

_Hmm… _A voice said in her head, _Interesting._

Hermione stopped herself from flinching, not wanting the whole school to know that she was scared of a hat.

_A hat! _ The voice said, sounding incredulous, _A hat, you say? I'll tell you this, little witch, I'm much more than a hat!_

Hermione gulped.

_Sorry, Mr. Hat. _She thought back as hard as she could.

_Ooh, manners! _The hat replied, though it sounded like he was talking to more of himself than Hermione, _You could be a Hufflepuff. Hardworking, a sense of justice… but you don't like to work as a team, do you? _

_No. _Hermione thought definitely. Teamwork was… messy. Uncoordinated. Full of slackers. Annoying.

_Alright, then. You seem to have figured out how to communicate with me non-verbally. You're a quick learner. Most of the others just replied aloud._

_Thanks. _Hermione thought, her chest puffing out a little with pride.

_Ravenclaw would suit you. _The hat commented, _You have a thirst for knowledge… you feel like you need people to know you're right..._

Hermione frowned. She wouldn't _mind _being in Ravenclaw, but Albus Dumbledore came from Gryffindor!

_Why Gryffindor? _ The hat asked, _You do have pride, and a spark… desire for glory..._

_I want to be the best, just like Headmaster Dumbledore! _Hermione thought back.

The hat was silent. Hermione fidgeted, wondering if it was something she'd said. Being the best wasn't bad, was it? No, it had to be good. Hermione remembered when a boy in her class had topped her in a test. She'd gone out of her way to study as hard as she could for the next one, but he beat her again. So Hermione did something she wasn't necessarily proud of, in hindsight, but it had to be done - she stole his notes from class and replaced them with a set with all the wrong information. It wasn't her fault the boy had been dumb enough to fall for it… it just showed how much better she was! The next test, she'd beaten the boy. He wasn't much of a problem after that - getting a zero had dropped his moral a ton. But that wasn't bad! Hermione had just proven that she was better. No, the truth was _good_. What she'd done was _good_.

_Oh my. _The hat finally said, _How did I miss _that_?_

_What? _Hermione asked.

_You are cunning, ambitious, and have a massive desire to be the best. _The hat started off, _And you will do anything to be it._

_No… _Hermione denied, but the hat's seemingly disbelieving silence caused her to continue, _Well, a lot… I wouldn't do anything bad, though._

_Bad is a relative term. _The hat commented, sounding a bit... mischievous?, _There is no black and white, only shades of grey. Think about it. Is killing someone bad?_

_Of course! _Hermione thought back as hard as she could.

_But what if it's a mercy killing? _The hat asked, _What if they were in such pain because they were bleeding to death? Would it be bad to kill them to end their suffering?_

_Well, no. _Hermione thought. Now that the hat had got her thinking, bad _did _seem like a relative term. At least in that case.

_And what about if you put someone in jail? _The hat asked.

_It would only be bad if they were innocent. _Hermione replied firmly, her understanding of the world widening.

_But what if someone put an innocent person in jail to save 100 lives? _The hat asked. Hermione thought for a moment. Putting an innocent in jail was bad. But doing it to save so many more people…

_That wouldn't be that bad. _Hermione replied.

The hat was silent, before -

_You would make a very successful Slytherin. _

_But Slytherins are evil wizards! _Hermione exclaimed. The hat sighed.

_A common stereotype. _It replied, _Slytherins are great wizards. Some evil, yes, but some good. Do you really think a fourth of the population could be evil?_

Hermione shook her head.

_But… _She trailed off.

_Merlin was a Slytherin._

Hermione nearly gaped, but stopped herself in time.

_Merlin! _She exclaimed, _The greatest wizard of all? A Slytherin?_

_Yes. _The hat replied, a knowing tone to his voice, _Merlin. He was great. And so could you, if you choose Slytherin._

Hermione bit her lip.

_Really? _

_Yes._

Hermione was silent for a long moment.

_What do you want? _The hat asked, breaking the silence.

And that was precisely the moment when it all changed. When Hermione Granger decided to forgo black and white and settle on shades of grey.

_I want to be the best. _

"SLYTHERIN!"

An applause filled the air, but it was dimmer than usual. Hermione noticed that only the table with students dressed in green were clapping - some of the Hufflepuffs were as well, but they did it half-heartedly. Some of the Gryffindors had the audacity to _boo_. Hermione returned the hat to Professor McGonagall, who looked astonished and a bit sad. As she walked past the other first-years waiting, she saw that Harry Potter was half-clapping for her, while Ron Weasley was glaring daggers. Most of the others looked wary of her, but a few, such as Draco Malfoy, grinned as she passed. Hermione wondered what was wrong with everyone, but pushed her worries to the side for the moment, holding her head high as she walked over to the Slytherin table. Even if they did get to her, she wasn't going to show it. She was _strong_. She was going to be the _best_.

Hermione took her spot next to a blond first-year girl at the end of the Slytherin table, where the first years sat.

"Hi." The girl whispered, "I'm Tracy."

Hermione smiled back, wondering if she'd make some friends here and finding that her hopes were high.

"Hi." Hermione replied, "I'm Hermione."

Tracy smiled.

Hermione took note as to who the other Slytherin first years were. Already, there were Millencent Bullstrode, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle. Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and Baise Zabini came next, Baise being the last sorted.

Finally, Dumbledore said some odd words, and the feast began. Introductions were made throughout the first years.

"I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione said when it was her turn. Draco stared at her.

"Do you have family from France, Granger?" He asked. Hermione frowned a bit at the odd question, but thought about it. She had an aunt from France, if that counted…

"Yes." She replied, "I believe I do."

Draco nodded.

"Well, I'm Draco Malfoy." He said, "But you already know that."

Hermione was about to reply that she didn't, but the girl with dark hair, Pansy, cut her off.

"Ugh, aren't you so glad to get away from all of those dirty people?" She asked, blinking at Draco to get his attention, "I was a few people in front of Weasley in the line, and I could smell his stench from all the way up there!"

Draco nodded in agreement, as did the rest. Hermione felt a little left out, so she put in her two cents about Ron Weasley.

"I saw him on the train." She said, and the attention turned to her. She tried not to blush - she'd never been in the spotlight before, other than in class! "He was trying a spell - a quite simple one, in my opinion. _Colavara. _But he couldn't even do it properly. And he had _dirt _on his nose."

Hermione felt a little bad about bad mouthing Weasley. Her parents told her to never say something about someone that she wouldn't say to their face, but it was the truth! Anyways, Weasley had been nothing but rude to her. He was bad, and Hermione was good for telling others about his badness.

"Of course not." Malfoy said with a snicker, "He probably lives in a barn, with how poor his family is."

The first years all laughed. Hermione thought that was going a little far, but forced some laughter out to fit in with the rest.

"_And,_" Pansy went on, "A mudblood _touched _me on the train! Can you believe it?"

That's when Hermione's fantasy came to a screeching halt. _Mudblood_. She's read the term in one of the extra books she'd gotten. It was a derogatory term for someone like her - a magical who had two muggle parents. Apparently, most "pure bloods" thought of themselves as better than the rest, and looked down upon muggleborns like Hermione. When she'd first read of it, Hermione dismissed the notion as old - after all, who would believe such a thing in the modern day and age? - but now, she was experiencing it in real life.

"You better wash up well, Pansy." Draco said, bringing Hermione out of her spiraling thoughts with a smirk, "Lest you carry the stench around."

That was when Hermione had the thought that would change her life in Slytherin.

What if she _wasn't _a mudblood? What if her parents were really foster parents, but they'd never told her of her true heritage? But, before she left, Hermione heard them whisper a name... Hermione thought back to her book

_The Influential Families Of Modern Times_ (which was written about a decade previous). Lestrange, Potter, Black…

Black. There it was. The glittering jewel. With the only living Blacks outside of Azkaban, the wizarding prison that was apparently impossible to escape from long married off, no one would know if the man in prison… what was his name? Oh, yes - Sirius Black - has a child beforehand. With her near perfect memory, Hermione recalled that he had been put in prison only about a year after she was born. It fit her story perfectly. She would be from an influential _pureblood _family, yet wouldn't get a bad reputation because of her "father" - after all, she hadn't seen him in eleven years.

But… wasn't it bad to pretend you were someone you weren't? That was like… fraud. But Hermione recalled what the Hat said. _Bad is a relative term_. _There is no black and white, only shades of grey. _If Hermione used the story to stop the others from dismissing her as lesser… used it to help her be known as the best… then that really wasn't that bad.

"So, Davis." Pansy said bitingly, bringing Hermione back to the conversation, "I haven't heard of you before. Is your family just… not well off, or is your blood… tainted?" She drew the words out mockingly. Hermione was suddenly very glad she had come to the decision she did, "_Halfblood._"

It was a whisper, yet all of the first-years at the table heard it.

Tracy Davis said nothing, staring determinedly at her plate.

"Well?" Blaise Zabini asked, his tone a bit dangerous, "What is it, Davis?"

"None of your business, that's what." Daphne Greengrass snapped, coming to Tracy's defense. She gave all of them a death glare, as if to say _don't mess with my friend, or else._

Pansy waffled, not knowing what to do.

"Well…" She said, "I mean…" Pansy's faze caught Hermione's.

"Granger." Pansy said, having found new prey, "That name doesn't sound normal."

Hermione lifted her head like she'd seen Daphne do just moments before, glaring at Pansy.

"_Please_." Hermione said, putting all of her loathing in the word so it sounded rather venomous, "You're making a fool of yourself, insulting us Slytherins. Did you expect a-" Hermione hesitated for a half a second, unsure of herself before plowing forward anyways, "a _mudblood _to be amongst us? It's almost as if you have something to hide, Parkinson."

All eyes switched to Pansy.

"Answer the question, _Granger_." Pansy bit out.

"Don't call me that." Hermione snapped, making a few of the others looked shocked, "That's a muggle name."

Gasps emerged from her captive audience of classmates.

"Ha!" Pansy started, "I knew i-"

"Shut your mouth before you cross a line, Parkinson." Hermione replied, channeling her inner fire and fury into something cold and dangerous, "Yes, I was raised by muggles, but they're not my real parents. I'm adopted. They never told me who my parents were, but I always knew I was special." Hermione's voice dropped as if she was telling a story, and all who could hear leaned in, "I heard them talking, the night before I came. They were talking about my father. I heard one name. Just the one. And I knew he was a wizard."

Her voice now a mere whisper, Hermione uttered the two words that would change her life.

"Sirius Black."


	2. A Splash of Grey

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, not me. All characters and plot that are in her books are hers._

AN: This is a Hermione is in Slytherin story. Please read and review!

**CHAPTER TWO**

**A SPLASH OF GREY**

"You're a _Black_?" Tracy asked, borderline sputtering.

Hermione frowned, keeping up the plot.

"I haven't quite figured out who that is, yet." She said, creating an air of confusion, "But yes. I am a Black."

The table was still very silent.

"You _do_ look like Bellatrix Lestrange." Theodore Nott commented softly. Hermione remembered the picture of the frankly insane woman and for one moment felt a flash of doubt - did she really want to be known as related to her? - but she remembered Pansy's comments and she let her doubts die.

"Her hair has that similar… eccentricity, doesn't it?" Blaise Zabini commented casually, his "I'm cool" mask back on full power after it slipped when Hermione had uttered "her father's" name - as everyone's had. That had felt really good, actually. Seeing all of "her betters" stunned by what her cunning had produced? That was _amazing_.

"It looks like Sirius Black's as well." Daphne put in, looking less cold now that her friend wasn't being grilled in her heritage, "It's practically the same color."

"Would someone please inform me as to who Sirius Black is?" Hermione asked, trying her hardest to look innocent.

"Sirius Black was part of a very prestigious pureblood family - the same one my mother came from." Draco finally put in, "He was caught betraying James and Lily Potter."

Hermione has already read that, so she wasn't as surprised as she should have been.

"So he was a Death Eater?" Hermione asked, attempting so sound interested and perhaps overdoing it a bit. All of the Slytherin's eyes widened a bit.

"Yes." Draco replied, "He's in prison, now."

Hermione sagged.

"Oh." She said, "I thought that maybe I could have a family again-"

Mistake. That was a big mistake. But also, it was one of the best things Hermione could have said.

"You do have one." Draco replied, his voice suddenly strong, "We're a sort of cousins. I will write to my parents right away. I'm sure that they won't allow a Black to be raised by muggles any longer. Hopefully, you'll never see them again."

Never see her parents again? Hermione suddenly felt as if she was pulled under a bucket of suffocating water. Yes, her story had helped her so far, but now that the cost was apparent… was it worth it?

Hermione's mind traveled back to a time not so long ago. She had just closed the door after Professor McGonagall had visited and informed Hermione and her family that she was a witch. Hermione has walked into the family room and found her parents staring at her with wide eyes.

"_Mum? Dad?" Hermione asked nervously. They simply stared for a long thirty seconds that seemed like an eternity. And then?_

"_Go up to your room." Her father said. He probably didn't mean it to sound harsh, but it did._

"_But-"_

"_Go."_

They had said one word to her since. _Goodbye._

"Oh, Draco - may I call you Draco? - thank you ever so much." Hermione replied, a smile fixing on her face, "I never thought that I would get away… I could only hope…"

Hermione told herself that she'd see her parents again. Told herself that she wasn't accepting her new, false life that could give her everything. But deep down, she knew.

There was a splash of grey tainting her soul.

* * *

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_There is a first year who was sorted into Slytherin that would capture your interest. Her name as they sorted her is Hermione Granger, but she claims to only be adopted by muggles. She figured out who her father really is right before she left; Sirius Black. She didn't know who he was - or any other Blacks. We informed her. I know that you would say that she's lying, father, but no mudblood could act so well. She truly had no idea of her heritage. She loathed her muggle foster parents as well. She has very good manners for a muggle-raises. She looks an awful lot like Aunt Bella, though. Daphne Greengrass claims that she also looks like Sirius Black._

_I took the liberty of explaining to Hermione Black who her relatives were. She seemed quite interested when the ranks came up in discussion… After that, I told her that we were some of her relatives. I was wondering if we could take her in, Mother and Father. Before I knew who she was, I spotted her on the train. She was in a compartment by herself attempting to levitate her __**trunk**__. It only hovered a few inches off the ground, but that is more than you have taught me to do. I suspect her magical prowess is great, and raising an orphaned Black could do a lot for our reputation… _

_From your son,_

_Draco _

* * *

_Watch her and report._


	3. Sign of the Dark

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, not me. All characters and plot that are in her books are hers._

AN: Read and review!

**CHAPTER THREE**

**SIGN OF THE DARK**

Hermione awoke in the morning to light shining in from the window. She had gotten first pick of the beds last night, the other girls graciously (or not so graciously, in Pansy's case) offering the privilege, so Hermione chose the only bed by the window. Hermione had never felt so much like a princess - people seemed to be going out of their way to please her. Hermione figured that it had something to do with her lies of being a Black.

Hermione quietly grabbed her showering supplies and made her way to the girl's shared bathroom, careful not to wake the others. Tracy, who slept two bunks down from Hermione, Daphne separating the two, was the only other already awake. Hermione looked at her questioningly, but the girl simply angled her head towards the shower, as if to say you go first. Hermione wondered why in the world being a Black gave her so much power, but she shrugged it off and strode into an empty bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione emerged to find everyone else awake. They all sat on their beds, seemingly waiting. Hermione locked eyes with Tracy and Daphne, who both smiled and jumped up, taking off towards the two available showers. The other two, Millicent and Pansy, gave Hermione a quick look before avoiding her gaze.

Oh, how Hermione wished there was a book titled _Pureblood Rules and Customs 101_.

* * *

Apparently, the news of Hermione being a Black spread. When she walked into her first Transfiguration class, the Professor paused at Hermione's name in roll call, as Professor Flitwick had done a few hours previous.

"Would you prefer me to call you Miss Granger or Miss Black?" Professor McGonagall asked Hermione.

"I would prefer if you used my real name, Professor." Hermione said, grinning on the inside, "Thank you for asking."

And so the class continued, the others giving Hermione looks the entire time. Hermione did her best to ignore them. It really wasn't that hard, for the classwork was... difficult, to say the least.

Hermione stared at the little matchstick in front of her. She'd tried to turn it into a matchstick, but all she could do was make it pointy! Professor McGonagall still gave a point - rather reluctantly - to Slytherin, for it, but pointy wasn't enough! If Hermione was going to be the best, she had to do something as simple as the first Transfiguration lesson of the year!

Hermione closed her eyes. She needed to think logically. Ranting in her head would do her no good. Hermione thought about what she was trying to accomplish. She needed to change a matchstick into a needle. It seemed so simple, but… well, it wasn't, apparently. She remembered what the book she'd read had said. Wandwork, check. Words, check. Will, check times ten. Visualization…

Oh.

Hermione had been imagining a needle, but she didn't have the image in her head. So she thought of it - a small, silver, shiny, stiff string-type thing with a pointed end on one side and a miniscule loop on the other. Hermione suddenly wondered if she could make the needle gold. For a golden medal, of course. For the best. And that's what Hermione was going to be. So she visualized that, too.

She waved her wand and said the spell, keeping the image clear in her mind. Hermione opened her eyes to see a small, golden, shiny, stiff sting-type thing with a pointed end on one side and a miniscule loop on the other. A golden needle. Hermione grinned, doing a little happy dance in her seat before realizing that wasn't proper to do and going still. Thankfully, it seemed that no one noticed.

"Oh my!" Came a voice, and Hermione looked up to see Professor McGonagall staring at her needle with astonishment, "Ten points to Slytherin!"

Hermoine beamed with pride. That brought her total up to twenty, the first few from Charms.

Professor McGonagall stared for a little bit longer, before turning and walking back up front.

Millicent, who sat two seats away from Hermione, stared at her with shock. Millicent's matchstick was still very much a matchstick.

"Try visualizing." Hermione whispered. Millicent nodded, turning back to her matchstick. Hermione saw Millecent close her eyes. And Hermione definitely saw that Millecent's matchstick had gone pointy by the time class ended.

"Thanks." Millicent whispered to Hermione as they exited the room. Hermione nodded, smiling to herself.

Hermione smiled even wider as she spotted Professor McGonagall picking up the golden needle and pocketing it.

* * *

By Friday, Hermione had managed to help every one of her Slytherin classmates except for Pansy, who seemed to ignore Hermione at all costs. She was doing excellently in her classes, accumulating sixty points in four days, but that wasn't what Hermione was the proudest of. She was proudest of collecting her new… acquaintances? Friends, even? She had formed a study group with Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, and Theodore Nott, all of which spoke with her on a regular basis. They had even asked her to play Gobstones with them, and taught her how to play once they remembered that she'd never played a wizarding game in her life. That brought another round of muggle insults. Hermione noticed that her fellow Slytherins couldn't go a day without those. But anyways, they had offered to play Exploding Snap with her in the common room after classes, something that Hermione readily agreed to. She'd never had a friend before.

Truth be told, as Hermione was walking to her first class of the day, she couldn't help but feel a bit of dread build up in her stomach. Professor Snape was said to be the toughest teacher of them all, and Hermione wanted to make sure that he liked her. Hermione was lost in her thoughts until an urgent whisper pulled her out of them.

"Hermione." Hermione turned to see Daphne walking up to her with wide eyes, "I… overheard Pansy conversing with the older Slytherins, as well as some Ravenclaws."

Hermione slowed down so she could walk side by side with Daphne.

"And?" Hermione asked.

"She's been saying… untrue things about you." Daphne informed.

Hermione's eyes widened. She knew what Daphne was saying. Pansy had been insulting and spreading rumors about Hermione behind her back - just like the girls and Hermione's old school did. Hermione felt a ball of anger spin in her stomach, growing larger and larger as the seconds passed. She thought Hogwarts would be different. She thought she would be able to make friends without someone trying to stop her. But no, Pansy Parkinson had to ruin all of that.

"...Hermione?" Daphne's voice pulled Hermione back. Daphne's eyes were wider than Hermione had ever seen them, a bit of nervousness coming through her otherwise expressionless mask. If Hermione would have looked into the mirror, she would have found the reason behind Daphne's fear; Hermione's eyes had grown very, very cold, and her face was an expressionless mask like Daphne had never seen before.

"She's going to regret that." Hermione said, her voice a monotone. Hermione turned forward again, walking the rest of the way to Potions in a pensive, brooding silence.

Daphne was suddenly very glad she'd chosen to make friends with Hermione Black.

* * *

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Professor Snape began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the students caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed Professor Snape's speech. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, her mind replaying the professor's words. Stopper death? That sounded… incredible. And if Hermione could be taught all of those things… surely there would be a way to stop Pansy from spreading rumors about her? The thought made Hermione's mind go into her lazer focus that meant only one thing.

"Potter!" Professor Snape said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry Potter glanced at his partner, Ron Weasley. They both looked stumped. Hermione put her hand into the air, careful to not look overeager as Daphne said she did in the first few days of classes.

"I don't know, sir." Harry replied after a moment. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Had the celebrity even opened the book before he came to class?

Professor Snape's lips curled into a sneer that Hermione kind of envied.

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." Professor Snape said, ignoring Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione lefter her hand up, resisting the temptation to stand. She didn't want to look like a teacher's pet.

Harry seemed to not have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Hermione noticed that Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all were shaking with laughter. That wasn't very nice.

"I don't know, sir." Harry responded again.

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Professor Snape said, voicing Hermione's thoughts. By now, Hermione was a bit concerned as to why the Professor was still grilling Harry Potter, but she did nothing as the two had a stare down.

Snape still ignored Hermione's hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Professor Snape asked.

Come on, Hermione thought, that's on the first page. Harry seemed to not know. At this, Hermione had to forcefully keep herself in her seat by pinning her leg down.

Old habits die hard.

"I don't know," Harry Potter said quietly, "But I think that Slytherin girl does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Pity." Professor Snape nearly spat, making Hermione wonder what he had against Harry, "Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

Harry said nothing, but looked as if he was about to until Ron Weasley stomped on his foot. At least they had some common sense, Hermione reflected.

"Let's see if the Slytherin girl knows." Snape continued, obviously mocking Harry's choice of words and turning to Hermione.

"Miss Granger." He said.

Hermione lowered her hand, and began.

"Well, sir, in chronological order, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. And monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite."

Professor Snape looked at her with a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. He turned to the rest of the class.

"Well?" He said, "Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a scramble of papers and quills. Hermione waited for Professor Snape to award her house points, but he never did. Hermione internally deflated, before listening to the instructions to brew the potion the today - Cure for Boils. Daphne was Hermione's partner, and the two quickly set to work. Professor Snape swept around the room as they did so, criticizing almost everyone except for Draco, who he seemed to like. When Professor Snape reached their cauldron, which was the perfect shade of pink for the step they were on, he said nothing, but gave a nod. Hermione felt a bit miffed at that. She felt more so when Professor Snape decided telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs. To her horror, Hermione felt a bit of satisfaction as the professor was cut off as clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt a cauldron into a twisted blob, and his potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Hermione, thankfully, got out of the way fast enough, but again, to Hermione's delight, Pansy's left show was almost completely disintegrated. Neville Longbottom, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs. Hermione quickly stopped her train of thought that was leading her to the conclusion that the boy deserved it.

"Idiot boy!" Professor Snape snarled, clearing all of the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand, "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," The professor spat at Seamus Finnigan, Longbottom's partner. Then he rounded on Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who had been working next to the two.

"You - Potter - why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Hermione thought this was highly unfair, but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to lose points. At the end of class, however, she quickly packed up and nearly raced after Harry.

"Wait!" Hermione said, and the boy turned, his face a bit red, "Harry - er, I mean Mr. Potter."

"What do you want?" The boy standing next to Harry, Ron Weasley, said sharply, glancing at Hermione's green and silver tie.

"I just wanted to say that I don't think Professor Snape should have signaled you out like that." Hermione commented, looking around to make sure no Slytherins were listening in, "That wasn't kind or fair."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, looking grateful, but Weasley cut him off.

"Don't trust her, Harry." Weasley said, "She was probably laughing at us with her Slytherin buddies."

Harry looked at his friend with wide eyes.

"I don't think-" He started.

"Shut it before you cross a line, Weasley." Hermione snapped, using the same words that she had with Pansy just days ago.

"Don't tell me what to do, you slimy snake." Weasley replied. Hermione glared daggers at the boy. She reached for her wand, before taking a deep breath and stopping herself. Fighting wasn't good.

"You know what, I know when I'm not welcome." Hermione said, releasing a breath, "Mr. Potter, if you would like help with potions, I would be happy to help. I heard you are rather good at defense as well, if you're willing to provide information on that. I'll meet you at ten in the morning in the library tomorrow, if you would like to study together."

Hermione spun around, classily walking away. She ignored Ron Weasley's sputters.

Hermione didn't forgive him, however.

Ron Weasley had joined Pansy on her list.

That was the first sign of the dark.


	4. A Recipe for the Shadows

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, not me. All characters and plot that are in her books are hers._

AN: This is a Hermione is in Slytherin story. Please read and review!

**A RECIPE FOR THE SHADOWS**

"Winner!" Hermione called with a grin as Theo's cards exploded in his face. All four of her friends sighed; that was the sixth time Hermione had won _in a row_.

"For someone who has never played before, you're surprisingly good at Snap." Tracy commented as Blaise shuffled the deck. Hermione figured that she was just really good at muggle strategy games, but knew that answer wouldn't be accepted. Instead, she simply shrugged with a smile.

"It's not like you would have learned from your muggles." Blaise commented, using the others' word for Hermione's parents, "Honestly, did they know that you were magical the entire time? They must have - adopting a baby from Sirius Black. And then they never told you?"

Hermione nodded, going along with her story.

"What a bunch of filthy animals." Draco commented. Both Tracy and Hermione looked at him with slightly wide eyes. That was… mean.

Draco stared at Hermione, clearly expecting a response.

"Did you know that, after Professor McGonagall came and told them I was a witch, they said six words to me?" Hermione said, blurting the first thing that came to mind, "That was a full month before I left, and five of those words were spoken when she left. Technically they only said one sentence. The rest weren't proper - anyways, they basically pretended I didn't exist. I'm special, so they shut me out like a _freak_."

Hermione's expression had gone cold again.

"Well, _they're _the freaks." She finished, "Not me. Not us. We're special. And if those muggles shun us - _they're_ in the wrong. Then _they're_ awful creatures."

Hermione wasn't pretending anymore.

She meant it.

Every. Single. Word.

* * *

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently as she attempted to read. It was nine fifty nine, and Harry still hadn't shown up. Hermione _had _told him to come at ten, and she also wasn't really expecting a Gryffindor to meet with a Slytherin, but she still hoped. Hermione looked at her watch for the fifty-first time. 10 o'clock on the dot.

Hermione looked left, and then right. There wasn't a Harry Potter in sight.

She sighed. She really hadn't expected him to come, anyways, with a friend like Ron Weasley. Hermione picked up her book again - one on Potions. She'd searched all of her Potions materials, but she hadn't found the potion she wanted - one that would give Pansy and Ron boils. The two would be able to cure themselves if they were capable, but they weren't. Hermoine had seen their potions during the first class - they were simply awful. So they'd either come to Hermione begging for help - or go to the hospital wing and face the suffering of everyone knowing they couldn't brew a Cure for Boils potion themselves.

Either option was a good one.

The problem was, Hermione's schoolbooks didn't really _have _offensive potions. She would order next year's books, but she (1) didn't know what they were, and (2) she didn't know if they had the potion she wanted.

Hermione really wanted to smash her head against the book.

"Er- Miss Black?" Came a voice. Hermione, irritated, looked up sharply. Her eyes widened as she realized it was Harry.

"You're late." Hermione said, a bit of her irritation seeping through.

"You sound like a teacher." Harry responded, before widening his eyes, "I mean-er-"

"No, it's okay." Hermione said, laughing a bit, "I was just a bit irritated with my book."

Harry grinned, chuckling at Hermione's statement.

"Is the Potions homework that bad?" He asked, "I haven't started it… probably won't until Thursday, to be honest…"

"H-Mr. Potter!" Hermione said, looking shocked, "Procrastination will do you no good! In fact, you're going to get the homework done with me. I was planning to work on it with you, to be honest. You'll need the help."

Harry looked a bit embarrassed.

"I was actually looking up a potion while you were coming." Hermione informed Harry, for some reason wanting to tell the truth, "I can't find it anywhere!"

"Which potion?" Harry asked, sounding as if he wanted to help. Hermione felt a little shocked at that.

"A boils potion." Hermione instinctively replied. At Harry's questioning and a bit frightened glance, she elaborated; "I just wanted to know why someone would need a Cure for Boils potion, and I guess my questioning went a little far… again."

Hermione forced an embarrassed blush. Internally, she felt awful for lying.

Harry apparently believed her, for he grinned and sat down next to her.

"What's your name, by the way?" Harry asked, looking everywhere but Hermione's eyes, "When Snape caught me calling you the Slytherin girl yesterday..."

"It's fine." Hermione said, "You didn't really know me then. I'm not famous yet."

Harry smiled at the yet.

"I'm Hermione Gra-I mean, Black." Hermione continued.

"So you plan to be famous?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"Yes." She replied.

Harry sighed a bit, sinking into his chair.

"It isn't as great as you think." He said, "People are constantly bombarding you… and you don't really know if they like you because of your fame or if they like you because of who you really are."

Hermione frowned.

"I hadn't thought of that before." She replied slowly, "But I don't really want to be famous to be famous. I want to be famous for the things I'll do to get there, if you know what I mean."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, that makes sense." He affirmed, "I mean, I barely remember what I did to be famous, so I haven't experienced what you're talking about…but it makes sense."

Hermione nodded.

"Actually, who do you live with?" She asked, her question popping up, "I've read a lot of books with information about you in it, but they never say what your life is like now…"

Harry stared off to the side, seemingly determined not to meet Hermione's eyes.

"I live with my aunt, uncle, and cousin." Harry said.

Hermione figured that those relatives would have to be from Lily Potter's side, for the relatives on James Potter's side were dead or nonexistent.

"Were they muggles?" Hermione asked, her tone sharpening a bit.

Harry nodded slowly, as if he didn't know where this was going.

"I didn't know about magic before I came." Harry said, and then, more forcefully, "I know you Slytherins think that I'm lesser or whatever your prejudices are, but I'm not. Just because I was raised by muggles doesn't mean I'm-"

"Harry." Hermione said, cutting him off with a soft voice, "I was raised by muggles as well."

Harry's eyes widened.

"I only heard that you were a Black…" Harry said quietly, "I must have missed the part that you lived with Muggles."

Hermione nodded.

"I did." She said, and then, her voice hardening; "And it was awful."

Most of that was the story talking. But not all of it.

"...Why?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Because - because…" Hermione lowered her gaze. She had been honest so far (well, mostly), and it felt _good_, but talking about her parents to someone she was having her first meeting with felt uncomfortable, "I'm sorry, I just - I just can't talk about it right now."

Harry nodded, his eyes glowing with empathy.

"I know what you mean." Harry said, and, after hesitating for a moment, he continued in a smaller voice that still carried power, "But maybe someday?"

Hermione smiled.

"Someday."

* * *

"Acceptable." Professor Snape said after inspecting their perfect potion, as he had for every class. No, "good work," or even, "you did well". Just, "acceptable," or a nod. It infuriated Hermione to no end - all of the other teachers sent ringing praises her way, giving five house points every time she performed the spell he quickest. Professor Snape, on the other hand, hadn't awarded her any points at all. Hermione clenched her fists under the table as Daphne bottled up their potion. Anger courses through her - _no. Hermione that's __**bad**_. Hermione slowly unclenched her fists, imagining her anger dissipating as she did so. She took a deep breath, and raised her gaze up. She found Professor Snape's gaze locking with hers, and for a brief moment, she felt like there was an intruder. Whipping around, Hermione quickly scanned the room - to find no one.

The feeling and left as quickly as it had begun. Hermione shook her head, feeling silly.

"Miss Black."

Hermione looked up at Professor Snape, but didn't meet his eyes for some odd reason, afraid the feeling would return.

"Yes, sir?" Hermione forced steel into her voice, not wanting to show that she was scared of apparently nothing.

"Stay after class." Professor Snape said. Hermione forced herself to nod, before turning to pack up her things. Daphne gave her an inquisitive look, and Hermione gave a strangled smile back. _Talk to me later_, Daphne mouthed, seeing right through her.

Daphne, along with the rest of the class, left. Hermione caught Harry looking back at her as he left, concern evident on his face.

Hermione gave another attempt at the smile, this time succeeding more. For some reason, the fact that not only Daphne, the Ice Queen, as the Slytherins has taken to calling her because of her amazing emotionless mask, had stopped out of concern, but also Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived and a Gryffindor, had done so, made a bubble of joy spring up inside of her.

That bubble popped from a spike of fear as soon as the door shut, leaving Hermione alone with Snape.

Hermione summoned her courage as she made her way towards Snape's desk, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other until she was standing in front of the mysterious, slightly scary, man.

"Miss Black." Snape said, his voice cutting the silence like a knife to a little girl - _Merlin_, that simile was morbid, "You have a question for me."

Hermione tilted her head, confused. She hadn't asked anything…

Snape huffed impatiently.

"About House Points, Black." Snape snapped. Hermione, both confusion and fear driving her anger, snapped back;

"Why don't you give them to me?" She asked, "My potions are perfect _every time_, yet you still only say that they're acceptable. All of the other Professors give points!"

Hermione ignored the small voice in her head that told her that she was whining.

Snape sighed exasperatedly.

"Do I look like all of the other Professors, Black?" Snape asked.

"No." Hermione replied shortly, attempting to bottle her anger up and failing, "But it still isn't _fair_."

"Life isn't fair." Snape said, reminding Hermione too much of her parents and only fueling her anger.

"Well we should try to make it so!" Hermione burst out.

Snape stared at her. Hermione did not meet his eyes.

"I have not awarded any house points to first years yet." He said calmly, only a small bit of his irritation seeping through, "So your point is invalid."

Hermione huffed, but now that she thought about it… Professor Snape _hadn't _awarded any points in her classes, only praised Draco excessively.

"You treat Draco like he's a prodigy." Hermione said, half angry at the thought and half smug that she'd countered Snape's argument.

Snape sighed.

"That is a personal matter." He replied.

"It doesn't seem like it, if my potions are better than Draco's yet you still praise him like he's the next Elon Musk."

Snape stared at her, and Hermione cursed her Muggle instincts.

"You were raised by Muggles, were you not, Miss _Black_?" Snape asked, attempting to catch her gaze. Hermione deliberately stared at the desk and didn't look away.

"Yes." Hermione answered shortly, "I was adopted. I am the daughter of Sirius Black."

Since Hermione wasn't looking, she couldn't see Snape's reaction, but he paused for a few moments.

"But that's not what we were talking about, was it?" Hermione said, making the question sound like a fact (which it was).

"Indeed." Snape said in an undertone, "You were pestering me about so-proclaimed unfairness."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

"I will tell you one thing, Miss Black, and then you will cease pestering me." Snape announced. Hermione closed her mouth, "I do not give points for simply following directions. That is a skill, apparently contrary to popular belief, that is expected. No, I give points for higher level thinking. Not for _what _you do, but a deeper understanding of _how _it works."

Hermione nodded, a sudden understanding washing over her. In Muggle school, the teachers expected more than just following directions, they expected understanding. You were supposed to be able to explain rather than just do. As Einstein said, "If you can't explain it simply, you can't explain it well enough." And Hermione has no idea where to _start_ on Potions - no idea what a certain ingredient did, no idea why one stirred counterclockwise rather than clockwise, no idea why you would but a bean rather than squish it to extract the juice.

The last one didn't seem quite right. Hermione resolved to figure it out.

All anger gone, Hermione slightly inclined her head as a gesture of respect.

"Thank you, sir." She said, "I will do better in the future."

And she would.

She promised herself that.

"Miss Black, do you have any more questions, or are you simply going to stand there like an idiotic Gryffindor?" Hermione was drawn back to reality to realize that she had been staring off into space for awhile. Hermione was about to answer with a no before she realized something. Professor Snape was a Potions Master. If he didn't know…

"We learned the Cure for Boils potion in the first class." Hermione started, "I was wondering why someone would need said potion. Is there a Boils potion? Sir?"

Professor Snape stared at Hermione. Hermione stared at the desk.

"If, _hypothetically_, one needed a Boils potion, they would look in a book in the Hogwarts Library's restricted section." Professor Snape said, a sly smirk appearing on his face, "But other reasons for a cure would be for the dunderheads who have their potions explode.

Hermione vividly remembered Neville Longbottom.

"Would this potion be able to write something using those boils, sir?" Hermione asked, "Hypothetically, of course."

And now they were playing an exciting, fun game. And Hermione was determined to win.

"With the right adaptations." Professor Snape commented, reminding Hermione of their earlier discussions, "One addition would be enough."

Hermione nodded.

"Of course, sir."

Professor Snape took a ship of paper and a quill out from his desk.

"Hypothetically, said student would need this pass to get into the restricted section." Professor Snape commented nonchalantly, showing Hermione the pass with his signature, "Of course, the student would need to _earn_ this pass."

Hermione nodded.

"Obviously, sir." She replied.

"Of course, I would wonder what this Boils potion would be used for." Professor Snape said, "In a hypothetical situation."

"Probably to get revenge on bullies." The sentence slipped out of Hermione, "And to stop them. Hypothetically, of course."

Hermione spun, rather dramatically, in her option, and walked out.

"Hermione?"

Hermione nearly jumped. She turned to she's Harry standing right outside the door, looking concerned.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

Hermione beamed.

"Yes." She replied, joy in her voice, "Thank you for waiting, though."

On an odd instinct, Hermione pulled Harry into a hug. They both stiffened - Hermione hadn't hugged anyone in a while, and Harry… well, Hermione wondered if he'd ever been hugged, based on his posture. But they slowly relaxed as time went on, and Hermione felt herself enjoying the hug. She had a suspicion Harry did, too.

Hermione finally pulled away, her expression a beam of happiness and contentment. Harry smiled the widest smile Hermione had seen from him.

"I guess everything's okay, then." He said.

Hermione smiled.

Everything was more than okay.

She had friends.

Hermione's smile turned into a smirk.

And she had a recipe for revenge.


End file.
